Rose of Jericho (Lilith Adams Series Book 2)

by Jenny Allen

  “You do not wish to make these gentlemen incapacitate you. It isn’t precisely what I’d call pleasant.” The formal language seemed unbelievably odd coming from Chance. It took a second for her to realize what he was doing. It was a trick Lilith’s father used to calm people down and it worked every time. Apparently, Chance had been taking notes.

  “Fine.” Lilith slumped back into her seat without struggling, to the immense relief of her guards.

  “Where in the hell did that come from?” Cohen stared slack jawed at Chance like he’d never seen him before. “I mean thanks for the assist, but usually she’s the one pulling on your leash.”

  Very slowly, Chance turned to face Cohen and the look on his face was definitely not the slightest bit friendly. It was more like the look a wolf gives a mouse and Cohen seemed to shrink into his seat just a tiny bit.

  “You better start talking, Cohen.” Lilith echoed Chance’s look of open hostility but it wasn’t anywhere near as intimidating as his. In all fairness, bodyguards inherently get more practice at intimidating looks than forensic examiners. There wasn’t much use in scowling at a corpse. It didn’t make the tests work any faster.

  The Detective glanced back at Chance and then stared at her for a moment, a silent war raging behind his cloudy blue eyes. With a sigh of resignation, he finally decided to start sharing, a little bit anyway.

  “Your father is alive and relatively safe for now. You’ll see him soon.” Lilith didn’t like the sound of that. “We’ll all be seeing him soon.” She liked the sound of that even less. Cohen’s head fell forward with a heavy sigh. He looked like a man on death row being escorted to his execution. It seemed like Cohen was in the same hot water as they were. This had to involve his family. Had they found out about Ashcroft? Was it the blood exchange? Would it really make any difference? Probably not.

  From the look on Andrew’s face, he had no interest in talking anymore. Sharing time was over. Perhaps it was just a clever way of not talking specifics in front of the enemy. A girl could hope. If he was shut down for good, then Lilith and Chance were walking in blind and they couldn’t count on Cohen for anything. Surprise, surprise.

  Chapter 4

  After an hour of extremely uncomfortable silence the town car came to a stop and, for a moment, Lilith forgot to breathe. The blackout windows had made it completely impossible to tell where they were heading. They could be anywhere. Of course, she imagined some grandiose estate on a remote piece of land squirreled away from city lights. Something befitting an ominous, powerful organization that killed to keep its secrets. A nice, dark, isolated place where no one would hear the screams.

  Cohen drained the last of his scotch and Chance just stared at the dark window like he had for the last hour. Several times Lilith found herself wondering what Chance was thinking. He’d been angry on the plane, then they joked around, then angry again once they got off the plane and now, who knows? The male mind wasn’t her specialty. Every time she tried to figure it out, she felt like a cat in a blind panic, completely tangled in twine, and each struggle just made everything worse. It always pushed her to do the wrong thing, say the wrong words, and everything just exploded in her face.

  Now wasn’t the time to figure it out. The car door opened and Lilith took a deep breath. This was it, their first real glimpse. The guards exited the vehicle and began hauling Lilith, Chance and Cohen out of the car. Of all the alternatives and possibilities milling around in her brain, a fairly deserted parking garage was definitely not among them. Hiding in the middle of a city was pretty ballsy, but then that’s exactly what her kind did so why should she be so surprised?

  There were no grand old lawns with creepy statuary, or elongated windows staring darkly down at them. There were only a few bare security lights illuminating small pockets of the dank concrete building. The stale smells of exhaust and rubber meant it was underground and frequently used. This wasn’t an abandoned building. Their hosts owned this place, directly or indirectly.

  There were only a couple cars sporadically parked around this level of the lot. She was guessing it was past their standard, legit business hours. To her disappointment, none of them were close enough to get a good look at the license plate. Damn. Of course, knowing what state they were in wouldn’t help much but it would at least be a piece of the puzzle.

  Lilith breathed a sigh of relief when she realized the other town car with the twisted Marilyn wasn’t there. She wasn’t ready for round two. As fantastic as it felt to slam her in the throat, and it had felt pretty damn amazing, it hadn’t been worth the price. She was still rattled by the thought of what she could do to Chance, not to mention the fact that if the banshee made good on her threat it would mean Lilith herself would be worm food.

  The guards corralled them toward a green metal door with peeling chips of paint. It was just an old door, but to Lilith it loomed in the dim light like a dragon’s mouth. Her whole body screamed for her to stop, kick, scream, do anything that would keep her out of the monster’s mouth. Running wouldn’t help her now. She had no choice but to force herself forward, one seemingly calm step at a time.

  One of the henchmen paused to swipe his keycard over a little black box next to the door. They apparently weren’t completely lax on security. Still, it wouldn’t be too hard to get past with a card scanner. The peeling door popped open with a groan that trickled over Lilith’s raw nerves like acid. Behind it was just a generic stairwell with a chromed elevator. No demons. Not yet.

  Another swipe of a keycard and the elevator doors opened up with a mechanical ding. It was a bit of a tight fit for five people especially with the tension from the car hovering around them like a 5 ton elephant. A guard punched the button for the fourteenth floor and the metallic doors closed on the utilitarian hallway. Lilith felt a brief bit of amusement that the buttons skipped from twelve to fourteen. Guess even supernatural emotion-sucking demons were superstitious. More importantly, the buttons went up to twenty. With that many floors, they had to be in a fairly large city, somewhere. Birmingham? Huntsville, maybe? Assuming they were even in Alabama.

  Her eyes automatically drifted up to the placeholder for the elevator permit as Cohen slumped back against the wall. To her utter disappointment, the sign simply read “Permit on File with Security Office”. It didn’t even have a state seal. Dammit.

  When the doors opened on the fourteenth floor, they were ushered into a small modern waiting room. A huge sleek reception desk dominated the space, complete with recessed lighting, green shimmering counters and the crisp scent of sanitizer. Oversized, brushed aluminum letters with lights behind them pronounced P.I.M.C. on the black tile wall behind the desk. Lilith sighed at the dramatic initials. They might as well have been in a foreign language. It was something but right now and in the back of her mind they even seemed vaguely familiar, but it didn’t tell her a damn thing. Hell, even knowing what it stood for wouldn’t necessarily tell her anything useful. It could stand for Pain In My Crack for all the good it would do her.

  The squad of henchmen walked them past several corporate style offices in neutral, impersonal tones divided by glass walls. Each desk was starkly rigged with a computer and a phone without the slightest hint of personalization. It could be an accounting firm, a magazine company, an ad agency, an insurance office. The possibilities were endless.

  They reached the only room with solid walls and the guards shoved them in, locking the door behind them. A huge wooden conference table took over the room with a scattering of utilitarian chairs around it. Beige covered the walls to match the ultrathin economy carpet. There were no modern art paintings or inspirational posters on the blank walls. The place looked functional and routinely used. There were marks on the carpet, discolorations from foot traffic and the conference table was covered in subtle scuff marks.

  This room wasn’t meant for making impressions or entertaining guests. It was uniform, simply a practical place to meet with not a single window to serve as a distraction. This wa
s a think tank where the execs could crack the whip to get things done. Obviously the company wasn’t completely staged. Real work went on in here. She wasn’t sure what the hell that meant but at least it was another piece of the huge puzzle, even if she didn’t know where it fit yet.

  The pile of suitcases on the table was at least a place to start. She recognized a few pieces as hers and at least one of the medium-sized suitcases strongly resembled the one Chance had brought to Tennessee. Odd. She rummaged through the pile, hoping against hope and yes! There it was. She smiled wide as she pulled her forensics case from the pile.

  “Lilith. What the hell did that woman say to you?” There was a warning tone in Chance’s rigid voice. She glanced up to see him standing at the end of the table, arms crossed over his chest, jaw clenched. One look and she knew he wasn’t going to drop this easily.

  Lilith quickly looked down at her case as she popped it open. “It’s not…important.” She focused intently on the forensic kit. Someone had gone through it. All her scalpels, prods and thermometers were gone. Everything she could have used as a weapon. Bastards.

  “Lilith, that isn’t gonna cut it.” He’d been annoyed before but mostly concerned, now he just sounded angry. “Whatever she said to you scared the shit out of you. Talk to me!”

  “It’s not important, Chance.” She grabbed a bag of cotton balls and threw them angrily on the table. She met his hazel eyes and scowled at him. This was the last thing she wanted to talk about in front of Cohen. “What’s important is my father and figuring out what the hell is going on, not some bitch’s grudge threat. So why don’t you do something useful. Are one of these yours?”

  “Lilith…” Chance started but Cohen cut him off before he could say another word.

  “This is all very entertaining, but not the best use of our time.” Cohen was casually perched in a chair on the far end of the conference table as relaxed as could be. He seemed more like himself somehow, more composed and cocky.

  Chance frowned deeply, staring Lilith in the eye until she looked back down at her kit. After a few tense moments he finally moved forward, to the opposite side of the table. “We are having a conversation about this later.” There was a deep rumble in his voice that tickled her nerves. She wasn’t quite sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. At least he was dropping it for now.

  “Well, Detective, how about you start talking? Why the hell is our luggage here? And where the hell are we?” Chance snapped the questions gruffly as he ripped open a plain black suitcase. He stared down at the neatly folded slacks and button up shirts with suit jackets laid neatly on top. There wasn’t a single pair of his well fit jeans or any of his signature T-shirts, much to their mutual disappointment. Chance shoved the suitcase back into the pile and leaned against the table, fixing Cohen with an openly hostile look.

  The detective’s mouth curled into a smug half smile as he reached into his jacket and pulled out a tiny device that oddly resembled a Bluetooth earpiece. With the push of a button, a blue light started to blink as he carefully placed it on the table.

  “What is that?” Lilith tensed and backed away just a little bit. She didn’t trust Cohen and his strange behavior really wasn’t helping to instill any confidence.

  “It’s a short range scrambler.” Cohen straightened his navy blue jacket and sat a bit taller, reclaiming some of his more sophisticated charm. He flashed a smile full of the southern allure she remembered when she first met him in Miriah’s apartment. That innocent, good ole boy kinda smile. Of course, Lilith already knew that it was completely fake.

  “My family has every room in this building bugged. As for where we are, I’m afraid I can’t share that little tidbit of information.” His cloudy grey eyes moved past Chance quickly and fell on Lilith. “My apologies for the car. I know you are upset, Lilith, but you need to listen to me. I know what I’m doing. They need to think they have me completely under control. It’s our best chance.”

  For a minute Lilith was just stumped. She had a million different questions to ask, but she just kept coming back to the same one over and over. How in the hell was she supposed to trust him? Lilith finally uncovered the small compartment in the bottom of her kit and held her breath as she popped it open. A tiny silver key glinted in the light like a beacon of hope and Lilith released a relieved smile.

  “How are we supposed to believe anything that comes out of your damn mouth?” It was like Chance had plucked the question right out of her mind, but then again, it was a pretty obvious one.

  Cohen slid out of the chair and walked purposefully towards Chance with a smooth, liquid grace that was almost feline. He stalked around the table, keeping his pale blue eyes on Chance as he moved. Obviously, he wasn’t the slightest bit drunk. It had all been for show.

  “I helped you kill that monster in Tennessee. I handled the FBI and kept the two of you out of it as much as I could. I saved both of your lives! I even called Lilith and tried to warn her about what was coming. I really don’t see what your problem is?”

  Chance stepped right in Cohen’s face, shoving a finger into his chest. “My problem? You are my problem. If you hadn’t thrown me in a damn holding cell, Lilith wouldn’t have needed you to save her. If it wasn’t for your inability to handle the local police, I wouldn’t have been shot and the FBI wouldn’t have gotten involved. Lilith was the one that saved my life, not you. You would have let me rot in Phipps Bend. Every complication that you ‘helped us out of’ happened because of you.”

  Chance slammed his fist into the wall to keep from punching Cohen in the face. For Chance, it showed a lot of constraint. He may be an intelligent, collected, skilled strategist, but Cohen brought out the mindless hulk in Chance every time.

  To Cohen’s credit, the Detective didn’t even flinch. He stood calmly in front of the six foot three tower of rage and waited for the storm to pass. “Look, it’s all very dramatic, but hardly helpful. I did not engineer those situations no matter what you think, Mr. Deveraux. What purpose would I even have for such trivial games?” Cohen’s blonde eyebrow raised with all the cocky grace of his true aristocratic heritage.

  Chance leaned over the Detective. He may have only been a couple inches taller, but Chance knew how to make every bit count. “Because you need us, or Lilith at least. That’s what it has always been about. Either your family is using you as a sympathetic face, hoping that we’ll trust you or you’re in just as much trouble as we are. Either way, you’ll throw us under the damn bus as soon as you get whatever it is you want.”

  Cohen studied Chance’s face without a single sign of intimidation. His cool blue eyes were calculating, as if he was emotionlessly weighing all his options, and it made Lilith shiver. She remembered that same look on his face when he was holding a scalpel poised over her, ready to do Ashcroft’s dirty work. He’d claimed it was all a part of his cover, but in her core, Lilith wasn’t sure she ever really believed that.

  After a tense moment, Andrew simply turned on his heel, leaving Chance with a twinge of confusion in his anger. Cohen casually strolled over to a chair on the far side of the table and slid into the seat. He took a slow breath, his eyes returning to Chance with a calculated look as he leaned back without a single care in the world.

  “You’re right, I could.” That definitely wasn’t what either of them expected him to say, but he’d thrown so many curve balls tonight that Lilith couldn’t keep up. “Lucky for me you have no other options.” His smile was slight. He wasn’t gloating. He just said it like it was an uninteresting fact.

  Lilith finally slipped out of the handcuffs and rubbed at her sore, red wrists. “We need real answers here, Andrew, not more damn power plays.” She motioned to Chance and reluctantly he took his eyes off the Detective and held his wrists out to Lilith so she could unlock them.

  “My family knows about Ashcroft. They know who and what he was and, unfortunately, they know everything Gregor did to him. So yes, I do need your help.”

  Lilith’s mou
th dropped and her hands froze. “How is that even possible? You said yourself that there were no records of his family name. You were researching my family and didn’t have a clue who or what Ashcroft was. How in the hell would they know?”

  Cohen shrugged in one elegant motion. “They could have had bugs at Duncan’s place or any of his family members. They did send me there specifically to vet Duncan about the book they want. It wouldn’t be the first time they took extra precautions on a case I was assigned." There was more than a hint of bitterness in his tone. Apparently that was a very sore subject. “Maybe Spencer said something to the wrong person. Maybe my family had a spy in the lab, who knows.”

  “Or maybe you ran your mouth to the wrong person.” Chance snapped at him as Lilith unhooked one of the cuffs and got to work on the other one.

  “That is purely ridiculous. Besides, it’s a pointless line of questioning.” Cohen waved a dismissive hand at both of them and turned to his own thoughts.

  Lilith pulled the cuffs off Chance’s wrists and slammed them down on the table with a surge of anger. “Pointless? How they know about Gregor and Ashcroft could help us determine what exactly they know. It isn’t pointless, Cohen. Perhaps you just don’t want to admit that you may have confided in the wrong person.”

  The Detective dropped his calm expression and leaned over the table. “We don’t have any idea how they got their information. Prattling on with theories about it is pointless. I am not your issue here. We don’t have much time until they drag us into the ‘courtroom’. Can we please cover something that’s useful? I’m more concerned about them discovering precisely how I saved your life…” His cold eyes drifted over to Chance and the look definitely wasn’t friendly. “And apparently his as well. Which, of course, Lilith is solely responsible for, as was so clearly explained to me.”